Sophia's Daughter
by Suzotchka
Summary: What if Andre hadn't died? What if he had accepted his daughter's invitation to come to Babylon. How would the reunion go?
1. Default Chapter

Sophia's Daughter

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. I claim nothing but the plot.

She had asked him to come. His Dunshenka, who had not contacted him in the eight years since she had left. He in his pride had not contacted her. He remembered his illness, believing himself to be at death's door. She was his next of kin, like her, he had no one else left. She had cared a little, enough to contact him. It was her face he had woken to when he lapsed out of the coma. He could have cried to see his little girl a grown woman, her adolescent anger gone, her face filled with womanly forgiveness and caring. They had spoken and she had asked him to come. That was a month ago, he had since then recovered significantly and had come home. He sat in the study of his large home, alone. It was meant to house a family. He shot down another vodka, and rose, walking around the familiar room, his eyes falling to precious belongings. Photos from his wedding day, childhood pictures of Ganya, of Suzotchka. There were pictures Zotchka had drawn. He smiled remembering how as a child she had wished to be an artist, a musician and a dancer all in one. She had talent for all three. The last picture dated a few weeks before Sophia's death was of their home. Exactly the same now as it was then. Except in the picture they were all there, on the large porch.

He rose and went upstairs. There were six bedrooms. He had built this home for Sophia, before they married. He had come from an affluent family, a business family. He had started his own company at eighteen, funded by a trust. By the time he left college, it was successful enough for him to be independent. He completed his masters also in business, before taking architectural classes, a hobby of his. He had had to wait until he was thirty to marry. Sophia was five years younger than he and she wanted to finish medical school before they married. He had agreed to wait. In the mean time he had built this house. There was a nice entry foyer which was a wide hall in the middle of the of the first floor. It served as a party hall. Doors on the right side opened to reveal a formal drawing room, a connected dining room and the study. To the right side was a family room and dining room, a game/workout room and an art/ music/ dance area. The kitchen was at the end of the hall. He walked these rooms, remembering better times. He remembered the children's birthday parties that had been in the main hall, teaching the children to fight in the work out room. Suzotchka drawing and dancing and playing in the art room. He went upstairs. There were eight bedrooms. Three in the front, three in the back, one on each side. The middle in the front was his, the room he had once shared with Sophia, where he had brought his virgin bride on their wedding night. To the left was Ganya's room. It had stayed the same. The way Ganya had left it when he went to die, filled with Narn artifacts, and done in a greenish shade, Ganya had been fascinated with the Narn culture. He walked to the right, into Suzotchka's room. Out of respect for his daughter, he had never entered it when she had been there, after Sophia died. It too was unaltered. The room was light blue. The bed was a four-poster, surrounded by blue curtains, there was a dressing table, neat and filled with perfumes, and makeup and of course, what jewelry she had not taken with her. There was a door to the terrace, to the dressing room and bathroom, a writing desk, and a sofa type seat. Her room was filled with art work, both hers and of other artists, there was an alter cloth that she herself had embroidered and it lay folded on the bed. He picked it up, running his hands over the silk. He moved to the door and looked out into the stars. He was not too old, and he was much better now. He longed to see his Dushenka. It had been too long. He knew he had not done right by her. Sophia would have been disappointed. She had left him their daughter to his care. He would go, he decided, he could not make it any worse than it was. He had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

He had said yes. She could not believe it. He had been dying. It had filled her with regrets over leaving, regrets over their relationship after Mama had died and regrets over their lack of relationship since she had left. Her quarters were gently lighted by candles and soft jazz played in the back round. Half her closet was on her bed as she stood in front of it, frowning, what to wear? The door bell rang. She muttered to allow entry and Jeff and Michael entered. Damn, she had forgotten, they were supposed to go to some bar Michael had found. " Hot date tonight?" Michael could not resist as the two of them leaned in the doorway of the open door to her bedroom. She fidgeted her hands, " In a way..." She held up two hangers, " Which one?" One was a grey silk skirt of ankle lenght, and a matching jacket and shoes, with a light blue silk shirt, the other was a peach suit with a golden print and golden blouse. Michael stared at her but Jeff pointed to the grey and she pulled out a sapphire pendant on a silver chain. Michael started, " So are we on for tonight?"

" I can't Michael, I am sorry."

" Hey, what do you mean you can't?" he began angrily. This was the first time in a while the three had been able to get together off duty. Jeff stopped him.

" Listen, I have something to take care of, but how about dinner, tomorrow night, here. I have a guest to introduce to you."

"Sure." Jeff replied for them both.

" Great, now get out so I can change" Both nodded and left.

Andre disembarked from the liner. He carried his two bags and walked out. He had his identicard checked and glared at the security officer whose eyes held questions at his name. He stepped into the meeting area, where people waited for their loved ones. Holding his two bags, he walked through the crowd, witnessing several reunions. At the end he stopped. There she stood. Her hair was pulled in a half twist. She wore a grey silk suit and light blue blouse with a sapphire necklace. He remembered it as the one he had given her on her sixteenth birthday. She had left within the week. She was beautiful, slim and beautiful, filled with young strength was all he could think. She held a small bunch of white roses. He stopped with in a few steps of her. They stood there staring. He took the first step and she countered it hesitantly. Closer and closer, one step at a time. She held out the flowers and an awkward hand to shake. He waited but a moment, taking the flowers and pulling her into his arms.


	2. Sophia's Daughter 2

Sophia's Daughter

Flashback: He looked down at the wailing bundle in his arms, she was a beauty. He turned to his wife and smiled, he felt as if he owned the world. He had everything he had ever wanted. A wife he loved, a son and a daughter. They were all well and happy and Thanks be to God, he was able to provide well for them. He swore to himself they would always have everything they could want or need. If only Sophia wouldn't look so worried. The Corp had caught her a few months ago. She was to start the sleepers now that she had given birth. The Corp had already checked Suzotchka. They had had to do some intensive testing. Finally they had been forced to label her ' mundane' Still, Sophia looked so worried, he had the feeling something was going on. But they would worry about that later. Right now he just wanted to celebrate.

Andre stood in the middle of the field. Their comfortable summer house was just up the hill. Further down was a river. He felt the cool winds blow through him, making him thankful he was alive. The barns were to one side, and near them were pastures were horse ran around. Two of them were missing, the ones' that Sophia and Ganya had taken for a ride. A small hand tugged at his leg. He looked down and smiled at his five year old daughter, dressed in a gypsy skirt, blouse and sandals, her long hair fell to her small hips. " Papa," she said reaching her hands up, and he smiled and lifted her up high with ease, eliciting giggles from the girl. He carried her to his workshop as the two began another project. Andre was a man who liked to work with his hands. He was starting to make a boat from wood, as Zotchka watched adoringly, passing tools and the time with her chatter.

He felt lost in a daze of vodka, what day was it, what time was it? what did it matter? Sophia was dead, the sleepers killed her, the Corp killed her. He was filled with hate and anger, hopelessness and carelessness. Where was his children? Did he know? Oh yes, Ganya had joined up, he was in training now. He would not come home. He spent his free time with his friends, avoiding the house at all costs. Who could blame him? It had been two months since he had joined up, three since Sophia had died. And where was Suzotchka? When was the last time he had seen her? Days, weeks? He stumbled up and carried himself heavily to her door. She sat on the ground, in a long silk mourning gown, shapeless, to her ankles, wrists and neck. Her hair was free. Her skin paler than pale; her bones pierced her skin. Her eyes were haunted and lost and her head, hair and face were covered in a black lace veil. He approached slowly. She snapped and picking up the nearest object flung it at him, continuing to throw objects through his attempts to talk until finally he turned around and left.

It was four in the morning. He was in his study drinking. He heard someone enter. It was Zotchka, she had been out all night again. Did he care? Did he even know half the time? She entered the study. She wore a spaghetti strapped, backless, low cut tight black dress that barely went to the thighs. She wore matching stilettos and too much make up, scarlet all over her face and hair. She smelt of vodka, smoke and men. She was drunk. She had nothing to say to him as she leaned over him to take a bottle of vodka, a position which let him see down her shirt. He felt shame and looked away. She smiled a taunting smile, waiting for a reaction any reaction, playing with him in her anger, yet hoping for anger from him. He couldn't have known that. He left her be. She lit a cigarette and picking up the bottle left the room.

A few days later she was gone.

He looked at her now. She was dressed demurely, and smelt clean. Her eyes were clear and sober. She looked nervous, like a child seeking approval. He pulled her closer to him and stroked her hair as she lay her head at his heart.


	3. Sophia's Daughter 3

Sophia's Daughter

Susan sat on the sofa in the quarters that were to be her father's, resting. He was changing in the other room, and the two were going out to dinner. She felt so at peace, and yet so awkward. It had been a long time. Besides he didn't know why she had left. She didn't know how he would react when he found out. Andrei came out of the bedroom. He had freshened up. She rose and he followed silently. So much of their last few years had been silent was all Susan could think. Yet she didn't know what to say. They came to a small although fairly classy place and the two moved to the furthermost booth, both deciding on it silently, their brains working as one. Andrei pulled out his daughter's chair and smiled at her as she sat. There was such acceptance and love in that smile, it filled Susan. She felt like a five year old child being noticed by the man of her attention, her father. At the same time she felt so discouraged. There was so much formality. She remembered so many dinners at home, months, years on end when the two of them had sat down to dinner, together, alone. Not a word between them. As soon as dinner was over each would get up and leave. Unless they met looking for vodka, they would not see each other until the next day at dinner with the same routine. It had driven her to seek male attention in other ways, ways she didn't like to think about. The waiter came, both ordered, he came a few minutes later with their meal. They ate quietly. It was much like their time years ago. But it was different too, first they were both sober, second, the mourning they had been in had lessened. It was no longer their lives. They were no longer silent out of anger, hatred and grief, but more out of awkwardness and respect. There were barriers that could be dealt with. There was still hope.

Andrei rose from his paper work. It was near the end of a long day. He had seen his daughter yesterday after so long. It made him feel normal again. Feel something other than regret. She had had to work today. She had asked him to dinner to meet some friends and he had been relieved that she was not ashamed of him. He looked at the clock, 8 in the evening. Suzotchka would have just come off duty. She had asked her friends at 8:30. He would arrive a few minutes earlier he decided. He freshened up and gathered his two packages, one a bottle of fine wine, the other a small gift for Zotchka. It was a gift he had made himself. A beautiful necklace of blue carved stones. He had found the precious stones and after carving each by hand had forged them together, a labor of love. He loved to work with his hand. He loved to gift the things he had made and receive the things his loved ones made for him. He still cherished the worn prayer cloth Zotchka had made for him so many years ago. When he had gone into her room after so long he had found the one she had left to replace the one that had been old when she left. He had brought them both with him, his hands tracing the beautiful designs. She too had many things he had made her. Her writing case, of mahogany wood was a gift from him and her most cherished possession, although he did not know. He hesitated now, wondering if she would like it, if he should bother. If he shouldn't have bought some diamond set or something. It was too late now. He picked both up and left.

He rang her bell and within seconds, she opened the door, ushering him inside, thanking him for the packages. She was wearing her navy blue gypsy skirt of ankle length, navy sandals, a peasant blouse with printed flowers on it and the long navy vest. Her hair was partly bound. She motioned him to a seat and offered him a drink, it would be non alcoholic she explained as she moved about the kitchen, refusing his offers to help. One of her friends was a recovering alcoholic. The table was set for five. She was bringing the food onto the table when the bell chimed and she called for it to open. Her friends stepped inside. Andrei frowned. They were men. Three large men, although he was roughly their size and like his daughter in fit shape, indeed he could have fought them, he was not happy. Aside from issues of decorum, he could not help but remember a phrase his estranged mother used to say, that men and women can never be friends. He could not help but worry what they could want from her. There was no time to dwell on this as she introduced the men, Jeff, Michael and Stephen, and all five sat down to their meal.


	4. Sophia's Daughter

Sophia's Daughter

Andrei was fuming as he stormed through the corridors of the . By now most of the crew knew him and avoided him in his temper. How dare that son of a bitch treat his daughter in such a way. He had every intention of finding that Malcolm and teaching him a thing or two. He had just heard what had happened. Not even directly. He had just met a client in the Zocolo and on his way back had seen Dr. Franklin who had spoken to him on the matters, assuming he knew. He had of course forced Stephen to spill the rest of the story. He had barely managed to politely excuse himself before storming off to the docking area where he had learned Malcolm was being deported from. He entered the docking bay. Sinclair was at the door, staying away from the action. Security held down Malcolm who shouted at Susan as Ambassadors Delenn and G'Kar watched. " I can't believe you would side with them over your own kind."

His daughter replied, " I have found many of these people to be more human than you."

" I don't know you anymore." He declared.

" I never knew you." Susan had the last word and walked off, with dignity. To all she seemed calm, but he could detect the anxiety and upset in his daughter's manner. He and Sinclair had moved away from her path and she did not notice them as she walked away. They both knew she was going on duty for a second shift. Michael approached them. The three men stood together in a circle quietly. Jeff murmured an apology to him. Andrei nodded to acknowledge it absentmindedly. He wanted to go after Susan now. But he also knew she needed space after this. He asked the two men to join him for dinner instead. Both agreed and called Stephen to join them.

They had a long dinner and finally Andrei decided it was time to find his daughter. The four men had spoken about her all evening. From what he understood, Susan often dated men like Malcolm, Stephen had confided a belief that she believed she deserved nothing better and perhaps subconsciously she knew the man was no good. Michael had repeated a rumor he had heard about her dating a man who had actually beat her. All this took Andrei to the edge and it had taken him sometime to calm himself. Now he was filled with shame. He knew it was all his fault. He was the one who had treated her so indifferently that she had to seek male attention in this way thinking she did not deserve the right kind, she had looked to all the wrong people who had treated her in such a way that she ended up believing she deserved it. This Malcolm had hurt her in the stand off from what he understood and she had had to be forced to have it treated. Her arm had been stabbed and he would bet a thousand credits she had been neglecting its care and it was paining her.

He found his daughter of C and C. Ordinarily civilians were not allowed on the deck but he had special permission from Sinclair to come and go as he pleased. Jeff and the other men had come to think of him as a father figure. Just last night the commander had confided troubles with a woman named Catherine and had wanted the older man's advise. Her eyes were tired, her face defeated. Her body slowed with exhaustion. She had been on duty for sixteen hours now. He went up to her and stood there blocking her way. She made to pass him weakly but he refused to allow her by. She seemed panicked when she couldn't get by and it broke his heart when he realized that she expected him to hurt her. He took her arm and lead her off the deck, gently but firmly. Once out he lifted her sleeve to stroke the bandaged wound which desperately needed changing. She waited for him to say something, to condemn, to shout anything. Instead he slowly pulled her into his arms and rocked her. At first she seemed startled. Then she sank into his chest. He lead her to her office and held her. Soft sobs broke free from her throat and soon she could not suppress them. She cried until exhausted she fell asleep. He lifted her up and carried her to her quarters, but could not enter. He then took her to his quarters and lay her on the neatly made bed and pulled her jacket and shoes off, her hair loose. He then cleaned and rebandaged her wound. He covered her up and lay out a peasant blouse with embroidery on it and a gypsy skirt. He had brought these things for her and had never had the nerve to give them to her. The skirt was striped in purple and the blouse was light blue with purple design on it. He lay out the shoes that Lydia had sent with them, as well as country made soap and lotion the old woman had also sent. Finally hesitantly, he lay out an hair clip of precious stone that he had himself made. He had worked the metal into the clip shape by hand. He had found the beautiful matching stones and carved them to fit. Leaving all this, he kissed her forehead, and stroked her hair before closing the door and going to sleep on the livingroom couch.


End file.
